The Red Baron
by 6GunSally
Summary: Iskierka faces her toughest challenge yet as she sets out to ultimately resurrect the hope of a Nation stretched thin in the defense of an Empire where the Sun Never Sets. Dragon warfare during the Great War. ON HIATUS
1. Prologue: Relentless March of Time

_**Disclaimer: Several characters as well as this Alternate History were Created by Naomi Novik. I'm just a fan, imitating.**_

_**This story is set in during The Great War, more than a century after Napoleon's defeat at Waterloo; some SPOILERS and CHARACTER DEATHS, implied or otherwise.**_

**Prologue**

**The Relentless March of Time**

**April 1861-East Ayrshire, Scotland**

John Granby sat on an old wooden chair set in the stony hillside in the private covert of his estate. Iskierka's pavilion stood empty on the far edge, it was a grand structure, much further withdrawn from the Chinese style of the first she had commissioned long ago in Dover. No, the design she had chosen came largely from her imagination, the basic structure, a raised platform with a wide base, was the only thing that called to mind Temeraire's pavilions. Iskierka had asked for a high roof steeply angled and covered over with clay shingles of the Mediterranean Coastal style. The edges were lined in bells of gold, silver, brass, tin—all manner of material that could be so formed.

John looked at them, Iskierka's bells, and smiled. He couldn't remember when her infatuation had started, but then, she'd had other obsessions that had caused him much greater trouble. John turned his eyes to the steely expanse of the sky, relieved to see the long lithe streak of red, returning now to the covert. She landed and then ran across the field to him, a formidable sight in a creature of several tons. John laughed to see it and leaned back in his chair.

"Granby," Iskierka said and it made him smile to know that in spite of the other Granbys that she had carried or will carry, he would always be her only 'Granby', "I came after a short while, John-john is a natural, but I didn't want you too be out too long in the cold."

John raised a hand and patted her nose, "It is not so cold when you are near, love," he said, "I'm glad you like John-john."

John-john was sliding down from her back; he was only six years old, but tall for his age and likely to inherit John's height. The boy was all smiles as he ran to join his grandfather and John put his hand on the boy's head and mussed his hair affectionately. He was dark-haired like his father and rosy cheeked from the flight.

"John-john, run along to your mother now," John said, "She is worried about you."

"Grandfather," the boy said, "Will Iskierka and I be leaving soon?"

John looked longingly up at his dragon, "You will train privately here for the next two years, I've already settled it. Then you'll go to Loch Laggan."

John-john grinned and turned to run back toward the manor house, "Bye Iskierka! Bye Grandfather!"

Iskierka put her head down and John laid his head against her muzzle, "I am glad Excidium has granted it," she said, "I would not want to be parted from you again."

"Why, my dear," John said, "Does it not pain you that you should be stranded in this quiet countryside while the battles rage and the adventures spin all around us?"

"There will be many battles, Granby," Iskierka said and her bright eyes seemed to dim in sadness, "But there is only one of you, and I fear to be parted from you if—or when…"

"I have had a long and blessed life, my darling," John said but he hugged her and kissed her muzzle and let his tears run out, "And I owe it all to you, love."

"I'm sorry about Michael," Iskierka said, "I shall let nothing harm John-john. I will see that he finds a good woman and that she hatches him many eggs."

"Oh darling—"

"I thought too that perhaps we can invite Temeraire, as he must be bored to tears in Pen Y Fan, and perhaps we may have another go at an egg."

"That would be wonderful," John said, "We can send a message forthwith."

"That will be wonderful," Iskierka said.

Granby stood to walk back toward the manor; he was still thin as ever—more so in his waning years, a spry elderly man with flyaway white hair and only the slightest stoop to his shoulders. Iskierka watched him walk across the field, affection shone in her yellow, fiery eyes and she couldn't help thinking that he was still the handsomest captain there ever was.

**May 1889-Loch Laggan Covert**

Iskierka looked down at Temeraire with her head held erect, she was sitting on her haunches with her tail curled around her feet like an over large cat.

"We are going to Afghanistan," she said haughtily, "John-john says there are wild tribes there and there will be much excitement."

"These wars are getting old and petty," Temeraire said, "I should be glad not to take part."

"You are only jealous," she replied, "I will be very close to China and John-john said we may visit Canton while we are deployed."

"It's Guangzhou," Temeraire said, "but it isn't very nice. They will not let you into the Forbidden City because you are not an Imperial or a Celestial."

"I don't think I would want to go, but if I did they would beg me for a visit," Iskierka raised her nose and regarded him disdainfully. Temeraire raised and lowered his ruff in agitation before turning his back to her.

"Then I should be glad for you," he said, "Do come and find me if and when you return to England."

"Temeraire," Iskierka said and her voice had suddenly lost its obstinate tone, "I'm sorry, I think I understand now what you feel. I was deeply saddened when I lost my Granby. I miss him everyday."

Temeraire turned his head to look at her, "I wish you luck, Iskierka, it is a long journey to Afghanistan."

"You may visit my Covert if you wish," she said, "If you should want some privacy. John-john's egg may need someone strong and trustworthy to look after it, and I will be far away."

"You are very gracious Iskierka," Temeraire replied in dismissal.

Iskierka sat watching him for several moments until John Phillip Granby came into the courtyard. He was smiling at her and for a minute Iskierka imagined she saw her Granby, young and in his prime, and that any moment she would see Laurence come for Temeraire.

**September 1896-East Ayrshire, Scotland**

"I don't understand," Iskierka said wretchedly and Temeraire looked closely at her in concern. It was not like her to seem so melancholy.

"I just don't think Celestials can breed with just any other dragon," he said gently, "Lien does not have eggs either. The men have thought this for a very long time."

"John-john has made more eggs than I," she said, "Any day now, the fourth one will hatch. And all in such a short amount of time."

"They are hastier creatures, humans," Temeraire said, "Surely you've realized this. How many Granbys have you had?"

"John-john is the third, and William will be my captain after him," Iskierka met Temeraire's eye, "Though I don't know if I really want him. He doesn't look like Granby at all. He takes after his mother you see and is rather light haired—perhaps you want him? He is blonde and called William."

Temeraire let out a snort, "He will be nothing like Laurence," he said, "But you are very kind to offer. I do enjoy training the younger dragons and drilling them. There are plenty of people there to read to me, and of course, letters to be read and written. I do not miss that life."

"Oh look," Iskierka said turning toward the Manor, "here comes William now."

The boy was nine years old and rather stout. He had pale blonde hair and a very round face now pink with chill and the exertion of his run to the covert. He ran right up to Iskierka, unafraid, and stood a few moments to catch his breath.

"Iskierka!" he panted excitedly, "I have a new brother!"

"Oh joy!" Iskierka said, "A boy, really?"

"Father is going to call him Alfred after grandfather and Michael after his father what died."

"Alfred Michael Granby," Iskierka said and the boy nodded enthusiastically, "I do wish he'd have asked me before he named the egg. I don't like it in the least."

"What's wrong with Alfred?" The boy said.

"It's an ugly name," Iskierka said, "I would not want a captain named Alfred."

William frowned, "But I thought I would be your captain?"

"John-john is not old yet," she said, "Perhaps he will have another son, and you would've found a place elsewhere in the Corps."

William frowned and started to turn away from her, but he paused and said, "I just wanted to tell you, father is quite beside himself. But the baby and mother are doing quite well."

"I thank you William for coming out to tell me," Iskierka replied and then turned back toward Temeraire.

**April 1910-Loch Laggan Covert**

Admiral Granby entered the courtyard with his sons in tow. William was nearly 24 with a wide muscular build. His hair had darkened to a light golden brown though he stood only to his father's shoulder. Alfred at 13 was the same height as he, but rail thin with dark brown hair like his father. Like Granby.

Iskierka watched them approach eagerly. She lowered her head so that John-john could pat her muzzle. He smiled up at her and brought his sons over to greet her. William had been with the Corps since his early childhood and was wearing the aviator's bottle green coat with Lieutenant rank.

"John-john is there an occasion you've neglected to tell me about?" Iskierka asked.

"No my dear," he said and Iskierka noted that his hair had a sheen of silver, like it had been powdered, "but the boys are coming home for a visit. Alfy was waiting for us when we arrived."

Iskierka regarded the boy closely, "You've grown a lot, Alfy. Have you been training here at Loch Laggan?"

He was too small for her to see his face cloud with resentment, but she heard it in his voice when he said, "No, Iskierka. I will be going to University in Edinburgh when I am older. The family only needs one aviator at a time."

Iskierka looked over at William who had walked a ways away to converse with his father. "But William is a Lieutenant for another dragon—Maximus I think—he does well there. I would like you to be my captain. You will grow to look just like Granby."

Alfred gave her a confused look for all three of them were Granbys. He rubbed his hair and smiled, "You know," he said, "I would like very much to be your captain, but my mother doesn't want me to be in the Corps. I haven't any training either, so there is nothing that can be done."

"You don't need training," Iskierka said, "I have been doing this a very long time, and there have been many new captains that were much older than you. My friend Temeraire was harnessed by a man that was more than twice your age, and he had done many great things in his time, so you see it would not be a problem at all."

"But what about William? He has expected to be your captain his whole life, I could not easily accept your offer without betraying my brother."

"Then I will have you both," Iskierka said.

"Would you take from my mother both of her sons? And after she has shared her husband with you?" Alfy said.

"Do you not like me?" Iskierka seemed more surprised than hurt.

"On the contrary, I think you are the most wonderful dragon in all of Britain. I am proud to be a Granby. You've brought our family fortune and elevated our name. Don't ever think that I do not love you, Iskierka."

Iskierka was suddenly sad and she stared at him, but in her mind she was staring at Granby. She didn't see the Admiral and his other son come up to her until John-john put his hand on her muzzle.

"What is it old girl?" he said, "Did Africa not agree with you?"

"No John-john, Africa was fine, and the transport was fine too," she flicked her long spiked tail, "John-john, I've decided I'd rather have Alfy than William. Please make it so."

The Admiral was at a loss and he glanced at his sons, it had all been decided long before Alfy was born. Iskierka was watching him steadily. "Iskierka, it is not so simple a change. William has trained his whole life for this, he can't just start all over—and Molly and I had plans for Alfred—it's not so easy to just—!"

"Alfred is not so old that he cannot begin his training now," William said, "and you are not retiring so soon father, perhaps he would be a better match for her."

"And what about you Will?" Admiral Granby put a hand on his eldest son's shoulder, "Are you going to just give up everything you've worked for?"

"I would have the chance at a dragon of my own," William said, "Right? Is there a rule about siblings in the Corps? I've never heard of it."

Alfred's face lit up as his brother spoke, but Admiral Granby looked utterly torn, "Your mother might very well kill me if I ask this of her," he said with a sigh, "The Good Lord knows I've asked from her so much already."

Alfred's enthusiasm faded and he hung his head, but William said, "Iskierka can take him home every week while he is in training. And by the time Alfy takes up the post, you will be ready to retire. Mother is not above understanding the value the Corps has brought to our lives."

Admiral Granby shrugged, "Indeed. Very well, I will talk to her about this. But you must promise not to say a word to her tonight. Let me think on this. And don't start making plans until I've cleared this with her, you know such plans never work out as we should hope."

**A/N:**

Please keep in mind that I have tried to base as much of this as possible on existing cannon, the items I made up are explained below and are not intended to replace or supersede in any part Naomi Novik's wonderful work. My limited research and ability only serve to fill in a few gaps in what is intended solely as homage and simply a fan-derived work.

Iskierka's Captains and their relation to Alfy:

John Granby b. 1780-d. 1863 of natural causes at age of 83-Great-grandfather

Michael Granby b. 1818-d. -d. 1857 in the Indian Rebellion at the age of 39-Grandfather

John Phillip Granby b. 1855-Father

William John Granby b. 1887-Brother

This prologue chapter is meant to bridge the timelines, so I know it's kind of slow and kind of sad. Granby of course doesn't live to see the birth of his Great-grandchildren. Ultimately focus will shift to Alfred Michael Granby and WWI.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 1: The Very Worst Thing

_**Disclaimer: Several characters as well as this Alternate History were created by Naomi Novik. I'm just a fan, imitating.**_

_**This story is set in during The Great War, more than a century after Napoleon's defeat at Waterloo; some SPOILERS**_

**Chapter 1**

**The Very Worst Thing **

**May 1912-Loch Laggan Covert**

Iskierka landed inside the courtyard and waited for Temeraire to come down from his vantage point. His students, four Yellow Reapers and two Chequered Nettles had already come to ground and were listening intently to his lecture on their progress. She rolled her eyes and stretched herself out on the warm stones of the courtyard.

She hadn't realized she'd dozed off until she was startled awake by Temeraire's nudging her. She lifted her head and gazed into his deep blue eyes.

"What news?" He asked.

Iskierka took a step back from him, as they were uncomfortably close. "There has been much activity since we became the RFC. Most of us will be re-established in Larkhill in the South of England to train with the guns. John-john said there is talk of letting Loch Laggan for a breeding ground."

Temeraire hung his head, "Such vacillating change… and to what end?"

"John-john also said that Portsmouth Covert is being renovated to replace Loch Laggan for formation training. And I rode on the _HMS Candor_; it is a transport made of steel that can go without wind. John-john said that you are to stay with the Admiralty with many of the larger dragons. Though, I am sorry to say, I did not care to listen for the reasons why."

Temeraire shook his head and made a small noise in the back of his throat—a very human gesture that suggested he found her banter humorous but was reluctant to explain why.

"Well, that is nothing new Iskierka," he said and he angled his body so he faced the gate and gathered his muscles to spring aloft, "We will be forming a Corps of our own, it will be named the Royal Naval Air Service and we will work in support of the Royal Navy."

"A Corps of your own!" Iskierka grabbed his tail with her fore claw and glared at him enviously. Temeraire halted his jump and rested back on his haunches. He swiveled his neck to look at her.

"I did not mean—really Iskierka!" he scolded. "When the Aerial Corps were re-apportioned into the Royal Flying Corps that put us under the purview of the Royal Army. The Navy simply has different needs than they do. So when the discussion came up I offered to lead the dragons that were to stay with the Navy. After all, Laurence had his start in the Navy, and I was born on the deck of a Navy frigate. So you see, it is only fitting that I should be at the head of it."

"Then I should have the lead of the Royal Flying Corps, John-john is my captain and he is Admiral of the Corps!"

"No, he is now General of the Corps," Temeraire turned and then leapt up into the air. He hovered above her, knowing that it always made her angry to see it and said, "Do not be angry Iskierka, change is a necessary part of development."

"A general is just as fine as an admiral," Iskierka said with uncertainty, "Is it not so?"

"Of course, Iskierka," Temeraire said as if soothing a crying child. He flew upward and away toward the feeding pens and left Iskierka to brood alone.

Iskierka sighed and stretched her neck out onto the warm stones in contemplation. She almost dozed off again, but caught sight of a slender figure in olive drab and high boots. It was Alfred, looking a little disheartened as he approached her.

"Alfy, how are you?" She said when he was close enough to put a hand on his muzzle, "You've gotten taller. It seems you get taller every time I see you. You mustn't let yourself get too tall or you will look less like Granby and more like a giraffe."

Alfred chuckled, his stormy mood dissipated for a moment. But he didn't speak, only he leaned against her forearm and looked back toward Loch Laggan Castle."

"Alfy, are you ill?" Iskierka asked.

"No, I'm well, Iskierka, have you seen my father?"

"Of course, I see him every day," She said, but she felt Alfred tense and added, "He has to talk to some people about something—I don't know. You're coming home with us aren't you? John-john has been worrying after you for months."

"No," Alfred said and exhaled in frustration, "But that's not the problem. I've heard a rumor that Maximus is going to America."

"What's wrong with that?" Iskierka said, "The big fellow needs a change of scenery, don't you think?"

"The thing is, Iskierka, that the rumor has two ends. One, that his entire crew will be travelling with him to provide training for the Americans; the other says he is going alone in exchange for two Horned Phoenix eggs."

"You mean he is being put up for stud—in America?" Iskierka asked.

"Yes," Alfred said, "They say the Americans need new blood and we need smaller dragons."

"Poor Maximus," Iskierka said, "He is so young."

"I should feel even worse if my brother has to go on along with him," Alfred said, "I was hoping my father knew what was really happening."

"Well why are you bothered then Alfy? You're father will be along shortly and if you haven't heard the worst news yet, there is no reason to be upset."

Alfred grinned broadly at that, "You're right old girl, I haven't any reason to worry until then. But did father tell you when he would be finished?"

"He did not. But usually he does, so I imagine that he expects it to be a long while," Iskierka regarded the boy closely, tilting her great head to focus him in her great yellow eye, "I could carry you home if you would like."

"I can't," Alfred said, "Not tonight, we have a practical examination in the morning," he gave her a crooked smile, "You can thank Temeraire for that."

"Oh!" Iskierka said and doused him in jet of hot steam, "Why would he—"

"Its necessary," Alfred interjected before ineffectually wiping at the moisture on his face with an equally wet sleeve, "There have been accidents—I'm sure you've heard—and Temeraire wants to be doubly sure that at least the cadets under his direction do not make mistakes so grave."

"It is a mistake of the dragons I think," Iskierka said raising her head haughtily, "I've had men shooting off of my back for more than a century."

"But it's different on the smaller dragons and the guns now are so much more destructive now than they were before."

Iskierka inclined her head sadly, "It is unfortunate, you are certainly correct in that. I am just upset that you shan't be coming home with us."

"There will be another time," Alfred said and patted her nose, "I can offer you that, at least."

**July 1912-East Ayrshire, Scotland**

"Iskierka stop! Stop it! Please!" Molly Granby was screaming so loud her voice cracked as she ran out of the shelter of Iskierka's pavilion. She was carrying a rake and a bucket like a sword and shield. "Murdo! Get him!"

Murdo was the gamekeeper the family employed on the estate, a tall thin man with stooped shoulders. He was running now in the direction of the mad Kazilik steaming and spewing white hot flames in every direction she could turn her head while the large black Celestial held her down. Murdo dropped to the ground as he neared his target, the prone figure of a boy not yet sixteen. The clothing the boy wore was still smoking from where Iskierka had set him on fire. Murdo reached out and grabbed him by the ankle dragging him away from the danger.

John Phillip Granby ran to Murdo's side and lifted his son. Alfred was unconscious and he looked peaceful. His face had been unharmed by the flames, though there was little to be said for the rest of him. John ran as quickly as he could back to Molly and set his precious cargo gently on the ground.

Iskierka was still struggling but Temeraire was straddling her now with one claw pressing against the base of her skull restricting the movement of her head. He was still bleeding some from where she had raked her claws against his side. But Temeraire continued to hold her speaking softly to her in Turkish.

In the center of the field amidst a scattering of eggshell lay a small serpentine figure, perfectly formed with its wings held close to its body. She was mostly green, a green that matched the hue in the pattern on Iskierka's wings and accented in red. She had a crown of spikes, but only around her head that let out a steady exhalation of steam. This was the only movement that told the creature still lived.

Alfred awoke the next morning in the bedroom he'd grown up in. The first thing he noticed was the pain. He gasped and there was a startled reaction at his bedside.

"My poor wee Alfy," Molly said.

"What happened to Iskierka?"

"I hope she's destroyed—vile creature—and after we've given her a century of care and love and affection. This is how they repay us?"

"Mother, I must speak with my father. Is he here?"

"He has gone to Wales to settle this problem with Iskierka. We shall learn then what they mean to do with her."

"It isn't her fault, mother," Alfred said, "It's in her nature. She could—none of us could have expected that. Oh I am so sorry for it."

"You're sorry!" Molly said loudly, "That monster nearly killed you!"

"Leave me mother," Alfred said, "I must have quiet."

"Very well, Alfred," She stood and took up some of the clutter of his sickbed, bloody rags and bandages. "I'll send your father to see you when he gets in."

"Thank you mother," Alfred said and he lay back closing his eyes against the haze of pain.

When his father returned late that evening, William was with him, but Iskierka was not. John refused to talk about the incident but instead told Alfred not to worry and put him to sleep with some of the laudanum he had also brought back with him.

It was the evening of the third day when Alfred found he was clear headed enough to leave the house. He went straight for the barn hoping to find his brother. Father was too devastated and he still did not know what became of Iskierka. William perhaps would understand.

It was quiet in the barn, and it took Alfred a moment to realize that the horses had been turned out and the stalls were empty. He could smell blood and saw at the end of the barn a recently butchered carcass hanging. William was sitting in the straw with the bulk of his shoulders straining against his shirt as he bent over a hatchling dragon. She was tiny, about the size of a hound, and green with red accents. She had spikes like her mother, but no steam issued from them.

William looked up at Alfred, and shook his head, "She will die soon. I don't think she will survive the night."

William sat back so Alfred could see better the state of her. Alfred gasped in shock. She was emaciated to such a severe extent and so still that he couldn't believe she was still alive.

"She hasn't eaten?" Alfred said without really needing an answer.

William stood and shook his head, "At the very worst we expected that she would go feral. Not this. She is more stubborn even than her mother, and I fear the corps will not lose just one but both valuable dragons."

Alfred looked at his brother and William frowned.

"She can breathe fire," William said when Alfred didn't say anything, "This is Iskierka's third egg in more than a hundred years and this is the first—the first—pyrogenic."

"Is that what father wants? He wants me to harness this one?" Alfred's speech conveyed much more emotion than he'd intended, "I can't do it Will. I can't, for Iskierka's sake."

"Iskierka has father for some years yet. And the Corps is saying that if she refuses to take a captain after him she will go to the breeding grounds. She's far too unstable."

Alfred stared at the pathetic creature in front of him and she let in a trembling breath, almost a sob, and her sharp, bare ribs pressed taut against her skin. Her scales, green with patterns like leopard spots had taken on a dull milky sheen. His heart ached to see it and yet he was conscious of a terrible injustice.

"I don't want her," he said in a barely audible whisper and then more loudly, "I don't want her. I hate her! She's ruined everything!" William's brows knit but Alfred continued, "What matter is it to me if she dies?"

"Alfred," William said stern, but calm, "We have our duty to the Corps. We Granbys have been doing this for more than a hundred years. Alfy, you mustn't be selfish."

Alfred's lip trembled petulantly, "Please, you should try to save her," William said.

Alfred knelt beside the little hatchling and put a hand on her neck. She stirred and lifted her head sniffing the air around her, "Granby?"

Her voice was thin and high like a child, though some of it might've been due to privation. Alfred didn't speak but took the bucket William offered and with bare hands accustomed to the gore reached in and chose a portion of muscle with little bone and offered it to the dragon. She pressed her nose into the crook of his arm to take in his scent and rested there for a moment and closed her eyes. Then with obvious effort she accepted the meat and lifted her head to let it slide down he throat. She accepted another and another until the bucket was empty, but William was there with an entire leg from the carcass. The little hatchling watched it hungrily and even pulled herself up onto her feet to attack it when William brought it near her.

Alfred stood to address his brother. William was smiling broadly in obvious relief.

"What'll happen now?" Alfred said.

"You stay with her and feed her until she goes to sleep. I'm going to tell father," William turned enthusiastically for the door, but he rushed back in a moment later and grabbed Alfred's shoulder, "Don't forget to give her a name."

**A/N:**

**Once again, thank you for reading.**

In an effort not to let this story become too didactic I'm going to place some historical and/or military commentary in the notes here. I am very fond of the actual history but I realize that not everyone really cares. So I plan to include these items in the author's notes that you may feel free to skip without losing out on the plot.

Prior to WWI and with the development of "heavier-than-air" flying machines (i.e. planes) Britain incorporated the management of these technologies under the Royal Flying Corps. I've chosen instead to "reorganize the fictional Aerial Corps" under that institution. If my own military experience is anything to go by, reorganization is a very popular game. Yes there is also a Royal Naval Air Service, these organizations later combine to form the RAF, which is it's own service. The Aerial Corps seemed to be it's own service, but at times fell under the purview of the Admiralty of the Royal Navy or as in VoE under the British Army. At least that's how I interpreted the books.

I'm not saying it is wrong or right, but this is just how I worked it out in my little head.

Why "Alfy" and not "Alfie"? I don't want this character associated with either of the movies. Also, as his name is actually Alfred, and Alfy merely a diminutive, so I didn't think the spelling made a difference.

Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 2: Compromise

_**Disclaimer: Several characters as well as this Alternate History were created by Naomi Novik. I'm just a fan, imitating.**_

_**This story is set in during The Great War, more than a century after Napoleon's defeat at Waterloo; some SPOILERS**_

**Chapter 3**

**Compromise**

**July 1912-Pen Y Fan Breeding Ground, Wales**

It was late in the night, almost morning, when Temeraire landed in the breeding grounds with Admiral Granby. The Admiral looked tired and sick with worry and Temeraire too was drooping with exhaustion. Still Admiral Granby leapt from Temeraire's forearm and ran to Iskierka with the energy of a much younger man.

She was curled tightly with her coils wound together in a way that made it look like she had been tied into knots. She had her head on the ground upside down so that her chin was exposed and she was emitting a low keening sound and more than her usual amount of steam. Admiral Granby called out to her as he approached but his small human voice was drowned by her own sorrow.

"Iskierka," Temeraire said, his voice was steady but commanding, "You must stop this at once. I have brought your John-john for you."

Iskierka quieted and she loosed her coils a little and lifted her head to look at the Admiral. He was wearing plainclothes, loose trousers and a hunter's coat, in the darkness and mist she couldn't make out his face.

"John-john?" she said and her voice seemed small and frail and so unlikely from a creature her size.

"Iskierka, I'm sorry," John said.

"No, John-john—I'm so terrible! John-john, please be angry at me, I'm such a terrible—l" Iskierka slid her head toward him keeping it only a hand's width from the ground.

"He's alive, Iskierka," John said, "and the doctor is confident that he will recover."

"Oh John-john…" She said.

"You know you cannot take Alfred for your captain anymore," John said.

"But why?" Iskierka said and she almost lunged at him, but the Admiral stood his ground.

"The hatchling will not accept any other captain save for him," John said.

"But he is mine!" Iskierka said and her voice carried in a blast of heated air, "We brought her William and the two boys from Loch Laggan to choose from, why must she have Alfy!"

"I don't mean to explain the nature of these things, for I cannot," John said, "But I know Alfred never meant to betray you. He was as fond of you as anyone could be. But we need the little one, if it means we have to give you up for breeding—"

"No!" Iskierka said, "How can you say that? I will ask Alfred if he prefers me to her."

"You can't," John said, "He has harnessed her."

"Then I shall kill her," Iskierka said, "She is my egg, it is my right."

"You will do no such thing!" John said, "The egg is not yours, it belongs to His Majesty."

"I don't understand," Iskierka said, "I am bigger than King George…"

John rubbed his brow in frustration and looked at Temeraire.

"I will talk to her," Temeraire said, "I know what it is to give up my captain to someone else."

John looked up at the big black dragon, meeting his deep blue eyes. The Celestial had been very patient and understanding in dealing with the recent tragedy. He'd taken injury himself in order to protect them. He moved in beside Iskierka close enough for the steam from Iskierka to condense across his onyx scales leaving sheens of wetness. John sighed and shook his head.

**August 1912-East Ayrshire, Scotland**

"I don't know what to call you," Alfy said as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his short jacket and glanced back at the little green dragon. She'd gained a considerable amount of weight in the last few weeks but she was still lean and compact and hardly the size of a pony yet. She seemed healthier though and her scales shone like so many emeralds. "Ma suggested Brigit, don't know how you feel about that."

"Who was Brigit?" The little green dragon asked as she followed behind him like a dog. Alfy just shrugged.

"Don't know," he said patting at his hair where the wind was starting to whip it into an unruly mat, "A saint. Saint Brigit, I suppose, but it's just a name. Something to call you by."

"What's wrong with Dragon?" She said innocently and Alfred laughed out loud.

"Don't know," he said, "But when we go off to Larkhill to train there will be other dragons. I can't very well call you dragon when there are other dragons about."

"Brigit will do," she said, "If you like it. You'll thank your mother will you?"

"Yeah," Alfred said, "I will."

He left her alone in the family's private covert. In the weeks since her hatching he'd accepted his fate and cared for her adequately, if begrudgingly. He didn't have to like the situation and he made no secret of his dissatisfaction**. **

"Ma!" Alfred called out as he entered the family home. The dragon he'd left in the field like a chore he dreaded doing. "Ma, were are you?"

"Alfy, dear what are you shouting for?" Molly said leaning out from the parlor.

"I wasn't—is father home yet?"

"Later, son. Did you name the dragon?"

"Yeah… She liked Brigit so I'll call her that," Alfy shrugged, "Are we going to eat soon?"

"When your father gets in we'll have dinner. Come in here, Mary's got a new song. Perhaps you'd like to learn it."

Alfred made a face, "I don't really feel like it."

Not to be easily brushed off, Molly put an arm around Alfred and pushed him into the parlor where his sisters, Mary and Abigail were at the piano stumbling through a new piece of music. Molly sat in her chair and took up the bit of lace she'd been tatting Alfred sat on the arm of her chair and slouched dejectedly.

"Come on Alfy," Abigail said, "You haven't sung with us in so long."

"I don't feel like it."

"Oh Alfred," Mary stopped playing and glared at him, "How long do you plan on continuing with your melancholy?"

All of the women in the room laughed and Alfred glared at his sisters. When things settled he turned to his mother, "Ma, when is Will coming home?"

"September, dear," Molly said with a sigh, "Just like I told you yesterday."

Alfred sat for a few minutes longer glowering at the floor before standing to leave.

"Where're you off to Alfy?" Molly said without looking up from her lace.

"Privy," he said without pause.

"You can't be angry at her forever Alfy," she said.

Alfred stopped, "I'm not angry at her," he said turning to look at his mother. His tone was harsh enough that even his sisters stopped playing and looked over at him.

"But you are angry," his mother said, and there was a note of pity in her voice as if she mourned the change in her son.

"This isn't the way it's supposed to be," Alfred said childishly.

Molly pursed her lips and looked up at him, "No it isn't. I shouldn't have both my boys in the Corps." Alfred glared at her defiantly.

"Well you've got what you'd asked for Alfred Michael Granby, accept that and be happy. Don't take it out on that poor little dragon." Molly continued.

Alfred turned with a sigh and stalked out of the room. Eventually the piano started up again and the tension in the house eased. Alfred wandered into his sister's room. Mary had a large standing mirror inside. He was met by his own distraught face; dark hair, pale eyes and a ruddy ridge of sunburn across his cheeks. His hands went to the buttons of his shirt and he glanced once over his shoulder as he undid them. He pulled the back of his undershirt over his head with his arms still in the sleeves and then turned his back to the mirror.

"Alfred! What are you—!" Mary said bustling inside, "Oh." She frowned at him and he hastened to put his clothes back on. "Do they still hurt?"

"No," Alfred said under his breath, "Not really."

"They've healed really well."

Alfred met his sister's eye before pushing past her to the door.

**September 1912-Pen Y Fan Breeding Ground, Wales**

Iskierka startled awake at the sound of claws and wings at the entrance to the cave she'd claimed. She raised her head and shot a warning jet of heat and steam in the direction of the noise. "Who is it? Do you know whose cave this is?"

"It's me," Temeraire said, "So you needn't shout and spout off smoke."

"What do you want?" Iskierka said.

"I came to tell you good bye," Temeraire said, "I will be returning to Dover soon."

"Have you stayed this whole time?" Iskierka said incredulously.

"I have," Temeraire said, "And you have been rude and haven't spoken with me as often as you should. Now I am leaving and you cannot be upset about it."

"Temeraire," Iskierka said, "Do you think they will ever want me back?"

Temeraire's rough flattened against his neck and he only looked at Iskierka.

"Things are changing," he said as softly as a 20-ton dragon could, "Sometimes, things seem all the worse for it. But I will see to it that there is a place for us."

"I don't like it," she said. Temeraire hung his head to see her so, as if the fire that had kept her alive and well, fiery, were starting to fade.

"It's never easy to accept change," Temeraire said, "And whether we like it or not it is inevitable."

He sat beside her while she continued to brood. The late afternoon sun was low and yellowing. Finally Iskierka turned to look up at Temeraire, the golden light beautiful on the black scales of his hide.

"Temeraire," she said, "Are you really leaving?"

"I must," He said, "I have duty elsewhere."

"Do you think you can leave in the morning, instead?"

"I don't suppose it will make so much difference," He looked down at her quizzically.

"Then you wouldn't mind staying with me tonight? I am so very lonely," Temeraire sighed to hear her sounding so forlorn and put his head against hers in a nudging caress.

**A/N:**

**Once again, thank you for reading. It's been a long while, so thanks too for your patience.**

In this story I'm going with the assumption that, since nations had the use of dragons in their military Air Forces, airplane technology did not come about, and the use of new automatic weaponry and photography and more modern warfare strategy was combined with the use of dragons. One of the trends in effect in this story is the shrinking of dragons too for better maneuverability and deployment in a more modern warfare environment.

So like, seven or eight months ago before I went on hiatus I had the perfect name for this little dragon, one that encompassed everything about her, from her mother issues to her pairing with Alfred. But I forgot… and Brigit was the best I could come up with. But it's the internets, I can update later if anyone has a better suggestion… (nudge nudge wink wink *ahem) Please help!


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